


Sloppy Toppy (Know That He Got It)

by wahgee



Series: here's another nothing that you made into something [2]
Category: Drake (Musician) RPF, Football RPF, Music RPF, National Football League RPF
Genre: I REGRET NOTHING, I am too #dedicated to this ship, M/M, yes the title is from a Travis Scott song, yes this is a sunday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 09:51:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14566449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wahgee/pseuds/wahgee
Summary: you know what it is.





	Sloppy Toppy (Know That He Got It)

Odell thought Aubrey looked the best with his thighs spread and his eyes glazed, dick painfully hard and glistening with a mixture of spit and pre-cum.

But the intense concentration evident on his face when he was handling business was definitely close second.

"Virginia Black sales have been through the roof since the last one! Another commercial can only help!"

The way his eyebrows furrowed, his jaw clenched, and the look of sheer frustration only added on to the lightskin rapper's ever present sex appeal.

Odell wasn't shocked to find an erection beginning to stir in his basketball shorts. After all, it had been so long since the last time their schedules aligned perfectly.

He didn't like to describe himself as a needy person, but someone with such a high endurance job like himself needed to take advantage of every available opportunity for relief. And business calls were always so long and tedious.

But he could wait, right?

He took in the soft, determined set of Aubrey's lips, and wondered if they would be pursed the same way when they struggled to contain moans.

Wondered about how his jaw would clench when he saw his pre-cum smeared over Odell's sharp, angular cheekbones.

No, he couldn't.

The New York Giants wide receiver slid knee-first onto the plush studio carpeting, putting a singular calloused finger up to his mouth.

Drake arched one perfectly manicured eyebrow at Odell's shuffling, half-heartedly shooing him off when his intentions became clear.

"What are you doing?" the yellow-bone mogul mouthed.

Odell smirked, gently pushing the gold and white OVO owl-embroidered track pants down to his knees and lightly stroking Aubrey through his boxers, watching him grow to his full thickness.

Aubrey let his head tip back in pleasure. "Stop playing," he mouthed.

A grin spread across the face that had fans of the New York Giants, male and female alike, swooning in their overpriced seats. "I won't play no mo'," Odell replied, letting the NOLA accent his lover adored seep into his words.

"What was that, Mr. Graham?"

"Just the television. Please, continue."

"Well, comparing production and revenue alone..."

The football player bent his head down, mouthing over the print cheekily and enjoying the visual of Aubrey straining to keep quiet, knowing he was damn near close to busting in his pants.

Mercifully, Odell coaxed all of thick seven inches out, admiring how the strained veins looked next to the performer's muscular thighs. He couldn't resist leaving his mark all over the caramel-colored skin.

Odell let Drake's bulbous head slide over the eager tip of his tongue before swallowing the length down completely, relishing in the way he bit his fist to stifle his groans.

When he deemed Drake's cock sufficiently soaked, Odell expertly wrapped one abnormally large hand around it, pumping and twisting in perfect sync with his teasing licks.

Odell continued until he could sense Drake's orgasm and lockjaw begin to take affect, switching to the less arduous task of running his tongue on the curving underside of Aubrey's dick and massaging his sack.

"Jheez, man..."

The way Drake flaunted his Toronto grown accent was more than enough encouragement for the famed wide receiver, and he sucked down the entire length, feeling it massage the back of his throat.

A broad hand came to clutch desperately at his bleached curls, Aubrey's thigh twitching against Odell's chiseled jaw.

"Baby, I'm close, I'm so close," the rapper mumbled, careful to hold his phone's mike far away from his ramblings.

Aubrey's cock came out with a playful pop! and a slow-moving bead of saliva.

The carpet rustled gently as Odell retreated to the Italian leather recliner he had been resting on previously, watching the 6 God slowly come back down to earth. The slight red flush that appeared when Drake realized he would only reach completion after the call ended was almost as much of a turn on as watching him take control. Odell palmed himself absentmindedly, feeling dizzy and desperate. At this point, the business dealings occurring on the phone were nothing more than radio static, taking second chair to the two men's arousal.

"Listen, Steven. I have one of the biggest football stars in the nation right here next to me, and he's willing to go the extra mile and promote this product? Is this something you want to miss out on?"

A few more squawks were emitted from the line before Aubrey flashed one of his famous full-face grins, uttering a couple more "great"s and almost immediately slamming the phone down, looking to the man with a wet beard and blown pupils who sat across from him.

"Bed. Now."


End file.
